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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24659932">still scorch my soul</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smalls/pseuds/Smalls'>Smalls</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Other, Pining, but not enough to actually make you feel good, is it pining if you don't realise you're pining?, the rating is solely for swearing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:26:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,837</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24659932</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smalls/pseuds/Smalls</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Raphael’s hand was warm against his skin. </p>
<p>No, not warm. </p>
<p>Hot. </p>
<p>It was burning. It felt like a slow-building fire and the longer the Maker held Gabriel’s hand, the more certain Gabriel was that he was going to go up in flames. </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (implied), Crowley/Gabriel (Good Omens), Gabriel/Raphael (past/implied)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>65</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>still scorch my soul</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>look y'all. i'm a slut for "Crowley used to be Raphael" but y'all are sleeping on the fact that if Crowley used to be an angel and/or an archangel then he for sure knew the other archangels.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gabriel sighed before looking down at the report on his table. Apparently, the Milky Way galaxy was nearly completed; all it need was Her final approval. He sighed again. Gabriel knew this was an important job, a necessary job. There was a lot of creation happening and God need some reliable angels to make sure this new universe was running smoothly. But, Gabriel’s hands itched to do something more. He shook his head firmly.</p>
<p>“There’s no sense in questioning Her ways,” Gabriel reminded himself. “You are doing Her work here, and that should be enough.”</p>
<p>“Are you talking to yourself again, Gabriel?”</p>
<p>Gabriel tensed and felt something flutter inside him. He knew that voice well. He swallowed unnecessarily and studied his report intently, making a note and refusing to look at the approaching angel. </p>
<p>“Hello, Raphael,” Gabriel greeted calmly. “Are you coming to report?”</p>
<p>He could feel the Maker move closer, almost close enough to touch. He leaned against Gabriel’s table, smiling broadly and holding out his report.</p>
<p>“Yes, sir. Just finished the Alpha Centauri. You seen it yet?”</p>
<p>Gabriel took the offered report without looking at him.</p>
<p>“I’ve heard good things from the others.”</p>
<p>“But what do <em>you</em> think of it?”</p>
<p>Gabriel didn’t know how to answer so he said nothing.</p>
<p>“If you ask me,” the Maker continued, casually stretching his wings, “it’s a work of art.” Gabriel glanced up sharply at that.</p>
<p>“That almost sounds like pride, Raphael.”</p>
<p>If anything, the Maker’s smile grew.</p>
<p>“Are you worried about me, Gabriel?” Gabriel turned away, face strangely warm.</p>
<p>“Well, someone should worry,” he defended weakly. “You’re a good Maker. You wouldn’t want to risk your title over something foolish.” He felt more than saw Raphael shrug.</p>
<p>“If you saw it in person, you’d understand. It’s not pride, it’s more like…satisfaction.”</p>
<p>“Satisfaction?” Gabriel repeated uncertainly. Raphael nodded.</p>
<p>“Exactly. You should come see it. Get out of this place for a while.”</p>
<p>Gabriel hesitated.</p>
<p>“I…I’m needed here.”</p>
<p>“No one has anything to report, Gabriel. I was the last one out for the day.”</p>
<p>“Still…”</p>
<p>“What’s the harm?” Raphael asked, sounding genuinely curious. “All day you sit here and read reports of all the things being created. Doesn’t a part of you want to get out and see it for yourself?” Gabriel swallowed again and looked back at his stack of reports.</p>
<p>“My place is here, Raphael,” he insisted, reaching for another paper. “It’s where She needs me and—”</p>
<p>A hand reached out and closed around Gabriel’s, preventing him from grabbing the next report.</p>
<p>“What’s the harm?” Raphael repeated, quietly but insistent. “Come see the works of Her fingertips. Or at the very least, the work of mine.”</p>
<p>Raphael’s hand was warm against his skin.</p>
<p>No, not warm.</p>
<p><em>Hot</em>.</p>
<p>It was burning. It felt like a slow-building fire and the longer the Maker held Gabriel’s hand, the more certain Gabriel was that he was going to go up in flames.</p>
<p>“Alright,” he managed, standing awkwardly, hand still caught in Raphael’s grasp. </p>
<p>“Alright?”</p>
<p>“Yes, let’s see what all the fuss is about.” Raphael laughed at Gabriel’s indifferent tone. He extended his wings to their full wingspan and grinned.</p>
<p>He was still holding Gabriel’s hand.</p>
<p>Gabriel mentally told his heart to stop pounding and released his own wings before gesturing to Raphael with his free hand.</p>
<p>“Lead the way.”</p>
<p>Raphael tightened his grip on Gabriel and took a running start before leaping into the air, leaving Gabriel little choice but to follow. He gave his little table of reports one last nervous glance over his shoulder before refocusing his attention on Raphael. The Maker was already watching him.</p>
<p>“Try to keep up,” Raphael instructed before releasing Gabriel and shooting forward.</p>
<p>Gabriel hovered, watching him fly ahead and taking in the Maker’s powerful wings and graceful form, then rushed to catch up. Raphael waited only a moment before diving sharply and shooting back up, glancing back at Gabriel and offering a wink. Gabriel laughed in surprise before chasing the Maker across the stars.</p>
<p>“Slow down,” Gabriel called, stretching his fingers and nearly brushing Raphael’s wing before the Maker managed twisted just out of reach.</p>
<p>“Not a chance,” Raphael returned with a broad smile. “You’re stiff, sitting around Heaven all day. This is good for you.”</p>
<p>“It’s exhausting.”</p>
<p>“I think the word you’re looking for is <em>fun</em>.”</p>
<p>“How much further is this ‘art’ of yours?” Raphael laughed, coming alongside Gabriel then stroking his right wing as he passed.</p>
<p>“Nearly there,” he promised, and if he noticed the way Gabriel shivered at the touch, he didn’t say anything. “Don’t worry about the distance. Are you even paying attention to the stars? They may not all be mine, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t lovely.”</p>
<p>Gabriel looked away, a little embarrassed to realise he hadn’t noticed his surroundings, choosing instead to focus on the Maker darting in and out of reach. He glanced around quickly, then stopped, unable to do anything but stare.</p>
<p>Raphael must have noticed because there was a presence beside him and a voice in his ear.</p>
<p>“The reports don’t do it justice, huh?” Gabriel nodded dumbly, abruptly feeling very small in the presence of the stars and the angel who helped make them. “Come on,” Raphael said, nudging Gabriel lightly. “Mine’s over here.”</p>
<p>Gabriel followed silently until the Maker stopped and gestured forwards.</p>
<p>“So,” Raphael asked in a tone almost smug, “what do you think?”</p>
<p>Gabriel stared at the swirling balls of luminous gas, burning in shimmering golds and fiery reds and vibrant oranges. He glanced over at Raphael and nearly gasped. His golden eyes and fiery long hair shone even brighter than all his stars; the Maker looked like he belonged there, as though he was meant to live out his days amongst his glorious creation.</p>
<p>“Beautiful,” he breathed and Raphael’s smile grew bright, brighter than all the galaxies combined.</p>
<p>
  <em>Beautiful.</em>
</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“And how is the demon, Crowley?”</p>
<p>Gabriel was proud, no, <em>satisfied</em>, with how indifferent he sounded. Aziraphale fiddled anxiously with his books.</p>
<p>“Crowley? Oh, well you know. He’s a wily adversary. Keeps me on my toes, so to speak.” He laughed nervously. “Not too difficult for me to manage, of course,” he was quick to add.</p>
<p>“Of course,” Gabriel repeated dryly. “Well, see you continue to keep a close eye out. The Apocalypse is coming and we want to make sure nothing gets in the way of the Great Plan. Especially not slippery serpents.”</p>
<p>“You, you can count on me,” Aziraphale promised, though he still looked a little twitchy. Gabriel shook his head. How this foolish angel had been entrusted with the flaming sword was beyond him, and why he would then be assigned to keep an eye on the Serpent of Eden, even after giving away the sword, was nearly impossible to understand.</p>
<p>Still, She must have Her reasons, and Gabriel’s duty was not to question but to obey.</p>
<p>So he simply thanked Aziraphale loudly for his ‘pornography’ and returned to Heaven.</p>
<p>
  <em>“He’s a wily adversary.”</em>
</p>
<p>Gabriel tried not to wince.</p>
<p>“He wasn’t always,” he whispered to himself.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Gabriel had an excellent memory, as all angels did. But even if he had the memory of a mere human, Gabriel knew he would never forget the day Raphael showed him the stars. Side by side, staring into the vastness of space and bathed in the almost holy light of Raphael’s creation.</p>
<p>It was forever seared in the Archangel’s mind.</p>
<p>Just like the day the Maker Fell.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Gabriel stared at the photographs in confusion.</p>
<p>“What is this?”</p>
<p>“I've been following up on Aziraphale's comments during our last meeting,” Michael explained. “I went back through the Earth observation files and well…” She trailed off with a little shrug.</p>
<p>He thumbed through the photos, frowning. Image after image after image of that foolish angel meeting with the demon Crowley. Talking. Consorting. <em>Laughing</em>?</p>
<p>“I’m sure there’s a perfectly innocent explanation,” Gabriel said slowly, his eyes tracing over the demon’s face. His many faces. The photos must span centuries, and yet the demon appeared different in every image. New clothes, new hair. As if he’s restless, searching for the right fit.</p>
<p>“Of course,” Michael agreed obediently, though she seemed less convinced. “So you don’t want me following this with back channels?”</p>
<p>“We don’t have back channels.”</p>
<p>He couldn’t take his eyes off the pictures.</p>
<p>Off of him.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Gabriel stood across the street from Aziraphale’s bookshop, feeling ridiculous. There was no reason to be here, watching the angel. Surely, there was a perfectly reasonable explanation. After all, Aziraphale was meant to be keeping an eye on the demon. Was it really so suspicious that they might have spoken, on occasion? No, of course not. It was practically expected.</p>
<p>It did little to ease his mind, though.</p>
<p>Gabriel checked his watch. It had been almost three hours by Earth’s count. The sun was beginning to set, and there were no signs of any red-haired demons.</p>
<p>The archangel nodded to himself.</p>
<p>“See,” he muttered. “Nothing to get worked up over.”</p>
<p>He prepared to miracle himself back to Heaven when he heard the loud roar of a car engine, clearly going way too fast to be making such a racket. He watched as a car sped around the corner, nearly taking out a pedestrian, and parked in front of the bookshop.</p>
<p><em>Humans</em>, Gabriel thought with an eye roll. Then he saw the driver emerge and his blood went cold.</p>
<p>Out popped a red-haired demon, swaggering up to the door and knocking confidently.</p>
<p>“Angel? You in there?” The demon took a step back, seeming to be waiting, and Gabriel took an instinctual step forward. The demon looked around impatiently and pounded on the door again. “Angel? Open up, we’ve got to talk!”</p>
<p>There was another pause followed by, “I brought wine!”</p>
<p>Gabriel bristled at the obvious temptation and watched in muted horror as the door finally opened.</p>
<p>“I wish you wouldn’t make such a racket,” Aziraphale scolded as he <em>held the door open</em>. “You’ll wake the entire street.”</p>
<p>The demon Crowley scoffed as he brushed past.</p>
<p>“If you didn’t take so long to answer, I wouldn’t have to yell so much.”</p>
<p>The door closed behind him and all Gabriel could do was stare.</p>
<p>This was not possible.</p>
<p>This was <em>not possible.</em></p>
<p>There was no way in Heaven or Hell or any place in between that he had just watched Aziraphale welcome the demon Crowley into his home as though they were old friends rather than enemies, as if this was a regular occurrence to be indulged rather than rebuked.</p>
<p>His feet moved him forward, without his mind’s permission, until Gabriel found himself standing at Aziraphale’s large front window. He could see the demon Crowley offering Aziraphale the aforementioned bottle of wine and could see Aziraphale <em>accept the bottle</em>. Aziraphale ushered the demon into the back room, chatting casually and resting a hand on the small of his back and the demon Crowley was <em>smiling </em>and Gabriel couldn’t stand another second of it.</p>
<p>He miracled himself straight into his office in Heaven. Gabriel looked around the room, feeling unsteady. He miracled himself a glass of whiskey and took a small sip. He lowered the glass and noticed his hand was trembling.</p>
<p>“What’s wrong with me?” he whispered to the empty room. He closed his eyes, but all he could see was Aziraphale welcoming that <em>demon</em> into his shop. His fist clenched as his jaw tightened.</p>
<p>“What’s <em>wrong</em> with him? Letting a demon into his bookshop like that. <em>Touching </em>him like that. He’s supposed to be keeping an eye on the demon, not a <em>hand</em>!”</p>
<p>There was a sharp pain in his hand and Gabriel dropped the now broken glass, not bothering to miracle it away. Too angry to miracle it away.</p>
<p>“I knew it,” he muttered, pacing the office restlessly. “I knew he couldn’t handle the job of guarding one of the gates. I told Her that he was too young, too inexperienced. I told Her we should anticipate another attack, that Hell wasn’t finished yet. And She didn’t listen and now that <em>fool</em> is succumbing to temptation.”</p>
<p>He sat in his chair, crossing and uncrossing his legs, too filled with this <em>energy</em> to sit still.</p>
<p>“Friendship,” he scoffed. “That sorry excuse for an angel is maintaining a friendship with a demon. The fucking <em>Serpent of Eden</em>, of all people!”</p>
<p><em>Was that part of the Plan?</em> he thought angrily. <em>Did you see that one coming?</em></p>
<p>Gabriel almost miracled himself another drink, when a thought crossed his mind and he paused.</p>
<p>“<em>Was</em> this part of the Plan?” he whispered to the empty room, needing Her response yet dreading the answer.</p>
<p>Six thousand years was a long time. A long time to build a friendship. A long time to <em>not notice</em> a friendship being built. Sure, he hadn’t noticed. The other Archangels hadn’t noticed. But why would they? Why would they expect Aziraphale to do something so…so…so <em>sinful</em>? Because that’s what it had to be, right? Friendship, <em>companionship</em>, with a demon could be nothing less than an unholy abomination, right?</p>
<p>“Surely You noticed,” he said meekly. “Nothing escapes Your gaze. You must have <em>seen</em> them, right?”</p>
<p>But then…</p>
<p>“Why isn’t he Fallen?” His heart was pounding and his hands were still shaking. “Why isn’t he <em>Fallen?</em>” Gabriel demanded, leaping to his feet. “Consorting with a demon, betraying Heaven, surely that is a sin. That must be because—”</p>
<p>
  <em>Raphael Fell for less.</em>
</p>
<p>Gabriel closed his eyes tightly and could only see Aziraphale’s hand resting on Crowley’s back.</p>
<p>“Is he <em>redeemable</em>?! Is that it?!”</p>
<p>He was yelling now. He was the fucking Archangel Gabriel and his hands were <em>still</em> shaking, out of fear or anger he didn’t know, and he was <em>screaming</em> at God.</p>
<p>“Is that why he hasn’t Fallen?! Is Aziraphale <em>redeeming</em> him?!”</p>
<p>The idea made Gabriel sick. He had seen him that day. He had watched the demon Crowley—<em>Crawley </em>back then—slither up the wall and strike up a conversation with the frazzled angel. He had seen those golden eyes and fiery long locks and it was <em>Raphael</em> but it <em>wasn’t</em>, and Gabriel had wanted to hurl himself down to Earth and grab his shoulders and demand why.</p>
<p><em>Why did you do it?, </em>he wanted to shout. <em>What did Lucifer offer you? What was worth it? Do you miss it? Do you even remember any of it? Heaven? The stars? Me?</em></p>
<p>But he hadn’t. He had simply watched and taken note.Because She had needed him in Heaven and Gabriel was meant to obey. And now, <em>Aziraphale</em> got to put his hands all over Crowley.</p>
<p>Gabriel froze.</p>
<p>No.</p>
<p>No, that wasn’t right.</p>
<p>Gabriel didn’t want to put his hands on a demon. He wasn’t jealous and even if he was, which he <em>wasn’t</em>, he wouldn’t be upset about <em>that</em>. That would sully him. No, Gabriel just wanted to be used by God. If She planned to forgive Raphael, to bring him back, then Gabriel wanted to do his part to see it happen.</p>
<p>This had nothing to do with <em>want</em>. What he had felt for the Maker was pure. Innocent. Divine. There was no <em>lust</em>. And all he felt for the <em>demon</em> was righteous anger and pity. There was no want, no desire. Of course not.</p>
<p>Just because the demon still had those golden eyes and fiery red locks didn’t mean Gabriel was fooled. Because he <em>wasn’t</em> the same. His red hair was too short, failing to frame and soften his face. His serpentine eyes burned like hellish embers, not divine starlight. He <em>wasn’t</em> Raphael, not anymore.</p>
<p>And maybe, aeons ago, when Raphael had touched him, Gabriel had burned. But that could be forgiven, surely. A moment of weakness that had never been acted on, that wasn’t a crime. His…feelings for the angel couldn’t be wrong. Not compared to what Aziraphale was doing.</p>
<p>“Putting his hands on a demon,” he said in disbelief. “A pretty demon perhaps, but a demon none the less, and to think Aziraphale would want to—”</p>
<p>
  <em>Maybe he remembers.</em>
</p>
<p>Gabriel collapsed into his chair.</p>
<p>It wasn’t impossible. After all, Gabriel had recognised him. As far as he knew Aziraphale had never directly interacted with Raphael, but who in Heaven hadn’t been familiar with the Maker? He had been one of God’s chosen, bright and graceful and beautiful, and what if Aziraphale <em>remembered.</em> What if he had seen the demon that day and struck a deal with God? Had asked for the chance to redeem him, as if that bumbling idiot had earned the chance to try.</p>
<p>Gabriel ran his fingers through his hair, feeling lost. He didn’t know which was worst: Aziraphale trying to win back Raphael for God, a task <em>he </em>should have been given, or Aziraphale consorting with the demon, having no idea who he used to be.</p>
<p>“Why him? Why not me?” he asked, staring up at the ceiling and daring, <em>begging</em>, Her to answer. “Haven’t I proven myself loyal? Worthy? I am <em>Your</em> chosen Archangel, given that title for my service to You in the Great Battle, and You chose Aziraphale instead of me? If Your plan is not redemption but true thwarting, I could have done it without being <em>distracted.</em>”</p>
<p><em>I’m a better angel</em>, he thought to himself. <em>I could have accomplished the Plan. It’s not pride, it's a fact.</em></p>
<p>“I could go to him,” Gabriel mumbled to himself. “I could find the demon and demand to know what he’s up to. If he’s scheming against us or changing for the better.” He got to his feet, idea taking form.“I know how to find him. It wouldn’t be hard. Just pop over and have a conversation. No harm in that.”</p>
<p>
  <em>“What’s the harm?” Raphael asked, sounding genuinely curious. “All day you sit here and read reports of all the things being created. Doesn’t a part of you want to get out and see it for yourself?”</em>
</p>
<p>Gabriel winced at the unwanted memory.</p>
<p>He walked over to the table, still covered with photos of the demon and the nearly, yet somehow <em>not</em> Fallen angel. He picked up a photograph, the two enemies—<em>or have they been allies all along?—</em>seated too close together on a park bench. The demon was smiling, almost straight at the camera. The smile was mischievous and knowing and so like Raphael that Gabriel wanted to burn the picture until nothing remained but a pile of ash, and he realised there was <em>harm</em>.</p>
<p>“I miss him,” he admitted quietly, clutching the photo. “It’s been eight thousand years since <em>that day</em> and I still miss him.”</p>
<p>It felt like defeat saying it out loud.</p>
<p>“It’s not my fault,” he said quickly, to himself, to the empty room, to God if She was listening. “He was an angel once, a Maker. It’s not my fault that I can remember that. You should have removed the memory.”</p>
<p>Even as he spoke, Gabriel wanted to take it back.</p>
<p><em>Please don’t, </em>he begged. <em>Don’t take it away. It’s the most precious thing I have.</em></p>
<p>He looked at the photo again and felt ill. There were so many strange emotions swirling around inside him that he didn’t know where to begin, and he felt wrung out and vulnerable. It was horrible.</p>
<p>“Why do I miss him? He betrayed us! He fought against us! He <em>Fell</em>!”</p>
<p>With a sweep of his arm, he scattered the pictures, watching them flutter to the ground with no real satisfaction. </p>
<p>“It’s not my place to question! If She said he deserved to Fall, then he <em>did</em>.”</p>
<p>The demon in the photo seemed to smirk at him, daring him to ask the question Gabriel couldn’t bring himself to voice. He dropped the photo as if he had been burned.</p>
<p>“My duty is to obey!” he insisted, although for whose benefit he didn’t know. “I do not question Her ways.”</p>
<p>
  <em>I will not Fall.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>“Ask.”</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>Gabriel couldn’t tell if the command came from the demon, still taunting him, or God Herself, or some deep place inside himself, but the question compelled obedience.</p>
<p>“<em>Why</em>?” he demanded, angry and confused and lost. “Why do I still see him like that? Flying and diving and dancing amongst his creation? Why can I still see his golden eyes, warm and bright? Why can I picture the way the starlight caught in his hair? Why can I still feel his touch, burning through me?”</p>
<p>
  <em>Why do I still want, when I know what he is?</em>
</p>
<p>Gabriel didn’t dare voice that last question. It was too…damning to say aloud. He could feel Her presence anyways. Hearing. Watching. <em>Judging</em>.</p>
<p>“It’s not my fault,” he whispered. “It’s not my fault.”</p>
<p>He closed his eyes and all he could see was Raphael, Crowley, <em>whoever</em> he was, taunting him.</p>
<p>Laughing with an enemy in the park.</p>
<p>Sharing a drink in a bookshop.</p>
<p>Delivering the Antichrist to Earth.</p>
<p>Sparking hatred and wrath in the hearts of humans.</p>
<p>Tempting carpenters in the desert.</p>
<p>Whispering lies into the ear of Eve.</p>
<p>Questioning <em>Her</em>.</p>
<p>Creating galaxies.</p>
<p>Flying through the stars.</p>
<p>Holding his hand.</p>
<p>Burning Gabriel from the inside out.</p>
<p>Smiling that knowing smile, as if he had always known what he would do, and not caring one bit.</p>
<p>Gabriel dropped to the ground, prostrate before God in the wake of his guilt.</p>
<p>“My God, have mercy on me,” he begged. “I can be strong. The Devil may be stronger than a man, but he is not stronger than me. Don’t let me fall victim to memories. Don’t let me <em>Fall</em>.”</p>
<p>He looked up, cautious and desperate.</p>
<p>“If he can be saved, then let me be the one to save him. Return him to You and let him take his place again among the stars.” <em>Let him be mine</em>, his traitorous mind added.“And if he can not, then let <em>me</em> see him punished. Let me prove myself to You, my loyalty only to You and Your plan, my God.”</p>
<p>His pleas were met with silence, but this was not unusual. In fact, a part of Gabriel was relieved. This meant his brief weakness, his questions, were not a sin. That God still saw him, and still had need of him. Besides, Gabriel didn’t really need answers. His duty was to obey not ask questions, and he had his orders.</p>
<p>He pulled himself up off the ground and picked up one of the pictures of the ground.Gabriel looked down at the picture, heart pounding.</p>
<p>“When this is over—when this is <em>all </em>over—he will be mine again. One way or another,” he promised himself. He allowed himself one more moment of weakness and looked at the picture. He stroked the face of the demon, the angel, the tempter.</p>
<p>Then he lit the damned thing on fire. He didn’t stop till all the pictures were burning, as bright as the stars, as bright as the eyes of a demon.</p>
<p>“He will be mine,” he repeated as he left his office, photographs still ablaze and smoke billowing. “Or he will <em>burn</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>you ever just love someone so much you burn? ever love someone so much you want them to burn???</p>
<p>anyways, thanks for reading :)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(title taken from the song "Hellfire" from The Hunchback of Notre Dame, cause when am i ever not inspired by a song)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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